


he was everything i dreamed of

by crosswalks



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 3rd year, Captain Yamaguchi, Fluff, HAPPY BIRTHDAY YAMAGUCHI TADASHI, Haircuts, M/M, Tsukishima Kei is a Good Significant Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:28:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27479560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crosswalks/pseuds/crosswalks
Summary: He adjusts the angle of the clippers about three times before Yamaguchi gets impatient.“What are you waiting for, dummy? I’m ready! Do your worst.”He punctuates this by putting his hands on his hips, the trash poncho swishing as it tents at the sides. The look on his face makes Kei snort, all overdone bravado.“It’s not too late to book a salon appointment,” Kei tells him.--For his birthday, Yamaguchi asks Kei for a haircut.
Relationships: Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 111
Collections: Yamaguchi Week 2020





	he was everything i dreamed of

**Author's Note:**

> i am gay which is why i speedwrote this in 2 days instead of doing classwork. please pray for my grades
> 
> title from “seventeen” kevin abstract

Kei would do nearly anything for Yamaguchi. 

It isn’t as dramatic as it sounds— it’s not an oath he’s sworn himself to honor until his dying breath, or anything. It’s just a facet of his personality, a predictable behavioral pattern that he’s begrudgingly come to acknowledge.

It’s not a fact Kei fully realizes until high school, until he’s sucked into the vacuum that is Karasuno’s volleyball club. 

There used to be a certain secrecy to their relationship, their interactions made private by the bubble they’d created. Kei’s standoffishness, and Yamaguchi’s penchant to stand by his side over anybody else’s, didn’t leave much room for anyone else to enter the equation. Simply put, Kei’s never had a motivation to analyze their relationship. Nobody ever questioned it, least of all Kei and Yamaguchi. It’s just how they’ve always been, ever since they were kids.

To his dismay, he learns that if Karasuno is good at anything, it’s at popping bubbles.

The third years were the first to notice how differently he acted around Yamaguchi. It was obvious, by the way they would shoot Kei amused looks every time he so much as handed Yamaguchi a towel. Kei shakes this off easily enough, though; it had _really_ started with the second years’ obnoxious teasing, whenever Kei would high-five Yamaguchi after a particularly good float serve. The goading is what eventually cements the realization in Kei’s mind.

After that, there’s no going back.

Kei doesn’t act any differently around Yamaguchi, not really. His awareness of his “soft side” (as Yachi fondly names it), though, heightens. Not exponentially, but enough that he lays awake at night in mortification, mind running on about how embarrassingly gentle his voice sounds when he’s talking to Yamaguchi alone.

There’s no point in denying it when the facts are all there. Self-awareness, however, doesn’t make the fact that he’s gone _soft_ any more bearable.

Especially now that they’re dating, and Kei _knows_ that Yamaguchi has figured it out. He never says it aloud, but there’s the way he leans into Kei each time he asks him for something, his black eyes teasing. There’s the way he needles Kei every time he tells him _No, Yamaguchi_ , knowing that he’ll eventually cave to Yamaguchi’s perstering. Kei can tell that he knows.

So when Yamaguchi’s 18th birthday is thrown into the mix, it’s nearly impossible for Kei to refuse anything his best friend asks of him. Which is why, presently, he’s standing behind said best friend in his dingy bathroom, clippers and haircutting shears in hand.

Yamaguchi has a big trash bag draped over his shoulders like a poncho, his hair newly washed, dried and ready to be trimmed. Kei looks at his boyfriend’s face through the mirror, running his fingers through the dark locks he’s about to snip.

It just about brushes Yamaguchi’s shoulders, having been untouched for the past two years. His hair had always been longer than that of most of their classmates, but this has been the longest Kei has ever seen it, in the 7 or so years they’d known each other. He brushes through it thoughtfully, root to tip, drawing out a pleased sigh from its owner.

For the longest time, Kei remembers, Yamaguchi had used this hair to hide. He’d started growing it out in middle school, but even beforehand had always found a way to shrink behind its facade. Kei imagines prodding fingers, recalls hostile voices mocking freckles and chubby cheeks, and feels his eyes narrow.

Before Kei can get too caught up in the knowledge that his _own_ voice was among the hurtful ones, Yamaguchi makes eye contact with him through the mirror.

“Tsukki?” he questions, smile amused, “I know it’s pretty long now, but I didn’t think it looked _that_ bad.”

Kei only yanks on the ends in response, drawing a laugh out of Yamaguchi. The sting of regret fades just as quickly as it had arrived, when Kei looks at Yamaguchi’s cheeky smile. 

He drops his fingers out of his hair, and takes the pair of clippers out of their case.

When Yamaguchi had asked Kei to cut his hair, Kei had only furrowed his eyebrows at him. He had told Yamaguchi to go to the barbershop instead, but Yamaguchi had insisted, for reasons still incomprehensible. 

Kei had thought he’d been adamant enough in his refusal, but Yamaguchi had pulled the Birthday Card in desperation, and Kei was screwed. 

“Don’t expect any other gifts from me,” he tells Yamaguchi. His responding giggle makes Kei’s lip quirk, though the sound is quickly drowned out by the hum of the clippers.

Kei takes some of Yamaguchi’s hair in his hand again, and positions the clippers at the base of Yamaguchi’s neck. Yamaguchi closes his eyes, waiting for the buzz at his scalp, but it doesn’t come. Because despite himself, and the two and a half hours of Youtube tutorials he’d watched in a nervous fit last night, Kei hesitates.

Yamaguchi makes a questioning noise, at which Kei sighs, turning off the clippers. He can feel his palms getting clammy, much to his chagrin.

Yamaguchi opens one eye, leaning back to face Kei. He reaches up one arm, rucking up his trash poncho, to poke Kei’s cheek.

“Tsukki! I didn’t know you liked my hair long so much,” he says teasingly, “if you’d told me to keep it I would’ve.”

Kei switches on the clippers again in lieu of a reply, and Yamaguchi shakes with laughter, bright and jovial. Kei waits for him to calm down, resuming his position by the base of his neck.

He adjusts the angle of the clippers about three times before Yamaguchi gets impatient.

“What are you waiting for, dummy? I’m ready! Do your worst.”

He punctuates this by putting his hands on his hips, the trash poncho swishing as it tents at the sides. The look on his face makes Kei snort, all overdone bravado.

“It’s not too late to book a salon appointment,” Kei tells him.

Yamaguchi pouts. “I want _you_ to do it though,” he whines, like a little kid.

Kei sighs, ruffling Yamaguchi’s persistent cowlick. He’ll be sad to see it go.

“I don’t understand why I have to be the one to do it. There are plenty of people better suited for this than I am,” he protests, more to himself than to Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi gives him a look through the mirror then. Its magnitude is no less intense for being viewed indirectly— Kei has the feeling he’s about to be reprimanded. 

He’s half right.

“Tsukki. My bag is getting itchy.”

“Hm. I think a salon would have a real haircutting cape. If you really think it’s so uncomfortable.”

Yamaguchi half groans, half laughs, slumping dramatically in faux frustration.

“So uncivilized,” Kei deadpans. “I take it back. My reputation can’t afford to take you out in public.”

Yamaguchi’s trying so hard not to smile, his cheeks puffing up in exertion. He hides his face in his hands, which Kei takes as an opportunity to lean over and kiss the top of his head.

“Not fair, Tsukki,” Yamaguchi grumbles, voice muffled by his palms.

He straightens back up in his seat, a chair they pulled from Yamaguchi’s dining room table. It creaks when he turns around to face Kei.

“I _trust_ you, Kei. And I’ve never regretted it, ever. Now stop doubting yourself so much, I want to go out for lunch before the lines get too long.”

He faces the mirror with a huff, while Kei tries to collect his bearings, bewildered by the impromptu confession. 

_Yamaguchi can be so dramatic_ , he thinks to himself fondly, though not without exasperation.

“Yes, Captain,” he says out loud.

Yamaguchi shoots him another look that says _hurry up or I’ll really start yelling_ , but the effect is diminished by the smile he’s desperately shoving down.

Kei tells him to hold still, and buzzes at the first lock of hair, strands fluttering unceremoniously onto the tile.

It gets easier once he actually begins; the movements he’d watched the hairstylists make become less intimidating when he has the real thing in his hands. Yamaguchi fills the bathroom with the sounds of his chatter, as he rambles about something that had happened in class the previous day. Half-listening, Kei pulls Yamaguchi’s hair back to trim the strands in front, exposing more of his face.

It’s still the same face as Kei’s known since forever: same black eyes and button nose. His freckles still dust across his cheeks, a unique feature that endears him to many of their peers. The effect is strongest when he clips his bangs back to reveal his forehead, to the vocal delight of the girls in their class. It’s been a long time since Yamaguchi has tried to hide his face— people flock to him now, drawn in by his friendly smile and lively presence.

Kei hooks a finger under his boyfriend’s jaw, tilting his head up for a better angle as he starts moving the clippers upward. Yamaguchi giggles at the sensation, his chin jerking in Kei’s hand. 

Kei feels his self control falter. Kei wants to give in and kiss all along his jaw, mouth his lips over the nicks Yamaguchi always gives himself when he tries to shave. He would, if not for the hair scattered all over Yamaguchi’s face and neck.

After a moment’s consideration, he does it anyway— blows at the flecks covering Yamaguchi’s face to peck him quickly on the cheek. The stray hair Kei has to spit out is worth it for Yamaguchi’s smile, sunny and fond.

His skin is even more tanned than usual. Freckles dot his brow and line his temples, remainders of the training camp they’d attended in Tokyo a week ago. Karasuno has long graduated from being the only ones to run their punishment laps outside, but Yamaguchi’s always tanned easily anyway. 

He’d been a great captain, in spite of (or maybe because of) his incessant worrying, firing up the team with his rowdy encouragement and expert jump floaters. He hadn’t given anybody slack, even when the first-years had gotten discouraged. He’d only pulled out his signature fiery expression, had probably motivated them with another speech about pride. 

Kei’s not surprised at Yamaguchi’s talent for leading. He remembers their own moment, when Yamaguchi had shaken him out of his slump that first year— remembers the fire that burned his steely eyes molten, contrasted with the tremble of his fists in Kei’s shirt.

Kei hadn’t been worried about Yamaguchi for a second.

As if he’s reading Kei’s mind, Yamaguchi chooses that moment to speak.

“You’re a natural at this, Tsukki!” he chirps, admiring Kei’s work, “Told you that you didn’t need to worry.” 

Kei rolls his eyes. “It’s not done yet, Yamaguchi. Don’t jinx yourself,” he huffs.

Yamaguchi grins, eyes crinkling softly at the corners.

“I’m not worried, Tsukki! You’re doing great!” he says, before continuing his story.

Kei flushes. It’s just like Yamaguchi, to be yelling at him one second and praising him the next. _Well_ , Kei thinks, _two can play that game_.

Kei turns off the clippers, trading them out for the scissors so he can trim down the edges. The bathroom is quiet, Yamaguchi having finished his story.

The silence is companionable, broken only by the gentle snip of Kei’s scissors. He musters up the courage to speak.

“You did well, at the training camp last week,” he begins, eyes focused on the back of Yamaguchi’s head, “you’re a good captain, Yamaguchi.”

Yamaguchi’s quiet for a second too long, which makes Kei whip his gaze back to the mirror.

His easy smile has dropped into a disbelieving gape, freckles lighting up an impressive shade of red. Kei’s blushing, too, but he smirks anyway. Yamaguchi’s too cute.

They’re quiet for the rest of the haircut, both mollified from the conversation. Kei combs his fingers through Yamaguchi’s scalp, checking for stray hairs he may have missed, and snips at the ones he finds. 

Soon, he’s freeing Yamaguchi of his itchy trash bag poncho. They both sweep away the flecks of hair at his neck, fingers brushing gently.

They both look at Yamaguchi’s reflection in the mirror then; Yamaguchi’s mouth is parted slightly, his fingers running through the shorter length, which stops now at his ears.

“Look okay?” Kei asks. He wipes his palms on his jeans, willing the clamminess to go away. 

Yamaguchi makes an affirmative sound, still staring at his reflection. After he’s done, he faces Kei, smiling ear to ear. Their toes just barely touch, on the cold tile.

“What do _you_ think, Kei? Do I look more captainly now?” he teases, taking hold of Kei’s wrists.

 _You look perfect_ , Kei wants to say. _Like the love of my life_.

“Yeah,” he whispers, kissing Yamaguchi on his newly exposed forehead, “you do.”

**Author's Note:**

> i hope u enjoyed!!!! i love yamaguchi so much he is my BOY!!!!!!! 
> 
> kudos and comments always loved and appreciated <3 i'm on twitter @geckoyama and tumblr @freakkquick!


End file.
